


Paracelsus

by AnaliseGrey



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A man and his lion, Gen, I didn't mean to write this fic, Psychic Bond, Season/Series 06, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Clone, Shiro's existential crisis, Shiro's wild adventure on the Astral Plane, which is a shock to Shiro
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-06-24
Packaged: 2019-05-27 17:26:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15029537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnaliseGrey/pseuds/AnaliseGrey
Summary: They fight together, they learn together, they become a family.And then he dies.He’s known it would happen sooner or later. He’d accepted his mortality ages ago, before he’d even left Earth. You don’t go into that sort of mission without the quiet thought in the back of your mind that you might not come back; there’s a reason astronauts have to make sure they have an updated will on file before going off-planet. The knowledge was only solidified in the Arena where he lived day-to-day, always expecting each day to be his last and grasping at survival with his fingertips.He isn’t exactly happy about it, but he isn’t scared, only sad that he won’t be there to help the others, the regret that they’ll be hurt by the loss.So it comes as something of a surprise to him when he wakes up.





	Paracelsus

**Author's Note:**

> I had no intention of writing a season 6/'Where's Shiro?' fic, and yet here we are, because my muse had other plans entirely.  
> Title is from a Robert Browning poem of the same name.

Shiro has always had a very strong sense of self.

From a young age, he knows more or less who he is and what he wants, and isn’t shy about saying so. It occasionally causes him trouble when trying to make friends, and moving to a new country when he’s eight doesn’t help, though he thinks it bothers his parents more than it really bothers him. He’s content to sit quietly and read about things that interest him, his mind voracious for whatever he can get his hands on. He quickly works his way through the children’s science section of the library and upgrades to the adult section, looking up the words he doesn’t understand.

He’s known since he was old enough to understand the concept that what he really wants is to go to space. He eats up anything about space exploration he can, learning the constellations and spouting facts about the planets until his parents know almost as much as he does. They send him to space camp for his eleventh birthday, hoping it will finally wear out the interest.

If anything, it fans the flames, and after that there’s no stopping him.

He applies for the Garrison program as soon as he’s legally allowed, and gets in on his first try, scoring the highest of his year for the entrance exams. He’s focused, determined, and passionate; he isn’t going to let anything get in his way.

He excels, though not easily- he works hard for every inch he gains, training, studying, learning. Some of his instructors are curious when he practically adopts a new recruit from a local children’s home. When asked, he says that he sees a lot of similar fire in the kid, even if he needs some encouragement and focus.

When Shiro is chosen for the Kerberos mission, it surprises precisely noone. He’s the best, after all; there is no better choice.

Shiro sometimes thinks that strong sense of self helps him survive in the Arena. He still knows who he is at his core, who he wants to be, even if he has to act in ways he normally doesn’t in order to survive. Each opponent he kills leaves a mark on him, scratching away at his self-image, but it’s still him under all the gouges and carved marks. Beaten and bloody, but unbowed.

He escapes, and everything is a whirlwind, between crashing back on Earth, seeing Keith again, and then heading right back up into space, now with a group of _kids_ , for god’s sake. All of them are scared, even Keith, who denies it on principle, but they're all so determined to do the right thing it makes his heart ache. He knows they’ll have to learn some of the same painful lessons he has, and that while he can try to gentle the way, there’s only so much he can do. He can’t learn the lessons for them.

They fight together, they learn together, they become a family.

And then he dies.

He’s known it would happen sooner or later. He’d accepted his mortality ages ago, before he’d even left Earth. You don’t go into that sort of mission without the quiet thought in the back of your mind that you might not come back; there’s a reason astronauts have to make sure they have an updated will on file before going off-planet. The knowledge was only solidified in the Arena where he lived day-to-day, always expecting each day to be his last and grasping at survival with his fingertips.

He isn’t exactly happy about it, but he isn’t scared, only sad that he won’t be there to help the others, the regret that they’ll be hurt by the loss.

So it comes as something of a surprise to him when he wakes up.

He recognizes the astral plane, he’s been here before. It feels different this time, and it takes him awhile to figure out that it’s because he isn’t just visiting, with his body elsewhere- this is all of him that’s left, his body is gone. He’s pure thought or spirit, or _something_ , and that tilts him over the edge into blind panic. He’d been ready- _accepting_ even- of death, but not _this_ , not whatever this is. He doesn’t know how much time passes- if time even _is_ passing- before he starts to calm, to recenter, a deep rumble of vibration making itself known. He doesn’t know how he feels it- he doesn’t have a body- but he most assuredly does, and it gives him something to focus on other than the endless purple-washed landscape.

“ _It’s alright, little one._ ”

‘Little one?’ He hasn’t been little compared to anyone in years, save the Galra.

“ _You are quite small compared to me, though, paladin._ ”

Oh shit. He’s never really interpreted it as words before, but he knows that voice.

There’s a disruption in the purple expanse, like a heat mirage, and it coalesces into the shape of a large black lion, not mechanical, but like he’d see on Earth. The presence of the Lion feels enormous, like it should be hundreds of times the size it appears. It looks at him, though Shiro doesn’t know what there is to look at, and tilts its head.

“ _You are safe here with me. There is no need for alarm._ ”

He doesn’t even know how to respond. It seems to be picking up his thoughts, so he assumes if he thinks at it, it’ll hear, but does that mean it hears _everything_ he’s thinking?

There’s a sense of amusement and fondness, and Shiro thinks if the Lion’s mouth allowed it, Black would be smiling.

“ _I can, but if you would prefer I can choose not to unless you intend it specifically._ ”

Shiro’s at a loss. He’s self-aware enough to know what his nervous gestures are, and his internal sense of self itches to run hands that don’t exist through hair that isn’t there. He might be having something of an existential crisis right now.

“ _As I said, you are safe, though I can understand how it may be discomfiting at first. Your kind is not meant to be here this way._ ”

Shiro erupts in what would be slightly hysterical laughter, and god it feels weird, like he’s bubbling, made of pure emotion, or popcorn, and that’s just...uncomfortable.

“ _If you focus, imagine yourself as you were, you should be able to create an avatar as I have. You may find that less distressing_.”

It takes him a few tries, and continuing gentle encouragement from Black, but he manages, finally able to open eyes that aren’t real, but feel like they are. He looks down and sees himself, still in his armor, but glowing a gentle purple at the edges and partially translucent. It’s still weird, but it’s definitely an improvement.

He looks back up at where Black’s avatar is patiently sitting, waiting for him, and now Shiro doesn’t know what to say. He wants to say something profound, deep, but what comes out is, “What the fuck happened?”

Again, the feeling of bemusement curls around him, and the Lion’s eyes twinkle.

“ _The combination of the use of the black bayard and the energy put off by my previous paladin’s defeat led to something of a backlash. You were unfortunately caught up in it._ ”

Ok, that...kind of makes sense. Sort of. And it’s nice to know they defeated Zarkon, so that’s good.

“But then what am I doing here?”

There’s a sense of squirming not-quite embarrassment.

“ _I had intended to save you, which to a certain extent I did. I was not able to save your physical form, for which I am deeply sorry, but I was able to save your essence, and bring it here for safe keeping._ ”

“Wait, is this my _soul_ then? What, you’re saying I died and you caught what was left and held onto it?”

The sense of discomfort wafts by again and Shiro pauses in a moment of realization.

“You didn’t mean for this to happen, did you?”

“ _I will admit I had a different outcome in mind at the time, but I do not see why that is an issue in the grand scheme of things_.”

If ever Shiro needed reminding that his giant sentient spaceship is a cat, well, this sure does it. He gives in to the inclination to run his hands through his hair, and starts pacing back and forth. Black watches him serenely, tail swishing gently to match the speed of Shiro’s steps.

“ _I understand you may be upset._ ”

Shiro stops and whirls to face Black.

“Upset? _Upset_? I don’t think that word quite covers it.”

“ _Would you have preferred I let you go? Disappear off to wherever you were meant to go?_ ”

“Yes! No? I don’t know!” Shiro grumbles, overcome with irritation, and goes back to pacing. Black lets him, and he doesn’t know how long he does it for before he starts to calm. He’s not getting tired, he doesn’t have a physical self to _get_ tired, but he’s mentally weary. It had been a long day before all this happened, and this would be a lot for anyone to take in; but he’s also nervous to stop and rest. He doesn’t have a _self_ anymore, and he doesn’t know what will happen to him if he rests, disengages. Will he stay here? Will he vanish off? He doesn’t know and he’s kind of afraid to ask.

“ _You are worried. What concerns you_?”

Shiro snorts. What _doesn’t_ concern him right now?

“I just...I’m not tired, exactly, but, well this is a lot to take in. What happens if I try to rest?”

The Lion considers him for a moment, though whether it’s thinking or accessing some cosmic database, Shiro has no idea.

 _“I do not believe you would sleep as you are accustomed to, but I think you could rest or withdraw if you are weary. It would not affect the stability of your presence._ ”

Shiro looks around at the barren landscape and sighs. “How do I do it?”

Black stands up and pads over, and yeah, Shiro had thought it was pretty big, but without anything nearby for scale, it was hard to tell. Now that it’s approaching him, the Lion towers over him by at least two or three feet. Shiro can understand why the Lion called him ‘little one’; this is just its avatar, and Shiro feels small for the first time in a really long while, though not in a bad way.

The Lion lays down next to him, curling into a comma shape, and looks at him, tail flicking, and Shiro realizes it’s an invitation. He steps forward and gingerly sits down, leaning back against Black’s side. It’s an odd sensation- there’s no physical presence, but it’s still solid enough that Shiro can imagine leaning back against it as if it’s really there- as if _he’s_ really there- and something in him settles. He closes his eyes, thinking to rest, and when he re-opens them, he’s not sure if any time has actually passed. Nothing around him has changed, but he feels different, better, more recharged. He doesn’t think he slept, exactly, but he thinks he got the rough equivalent of it.

There’s a rumbling against his back, and when he looks up, Black is peering down at him.

“ _How do you feel?_ ”

“Better, I think. More with it.”

The Lion dips its head down towards him, nosing gently at his shoulder. “ _That is good._ ”

Shiro smiles, and stretches, and though it doesn’t feel as he thinks it should, it still feels nice. He gets up and looks around, once again at a loss.

“What do I do now? You said my kind wasn’t meant to be here like this. What am I supposed to do?”

There’s a feeling like the Lion is sighing, and a head tilt that conveys a shrug. “ _For the moment, nothing. There may yet be a way to get you back where you belong, but I do not know how long it may take to achieve it._ ”

Something niggles again at Shiro’s mind. “Does time pass here the same way it does out in the physical world?”

There’s a brief hesitation, and the Lion’s voice is tinged with regret when it speaks. “ _No, it does not_.”

A sense of dread takes root in Shiro’s stomach, and he idly wonders how that works when he doesn’t technically have one. “How long have I been here?”

“ _To your friends it will have been a few phoebs._ ”

“ _What_? Do- do they know I’m dead?”

Black shakes its head. “ _No. They merely know you were missing from my cockpit after the battle that took your life. They do not know you are gone_.”

Shiro feels mildly ill. They don’t know. All they know is that he’s missing. Again. That horrible limbo between knowing for sure someone is gone and having hope they may come back, and he has no way to tell them. But even if he did, that would prove he _isn’t_ gone, wouldn’t it? God this is confusing.

“ _You are distressed again._ ”

“Yes, I just- I wish-” Shiro doesn’t know _what_ he wishes. That he could see them? That he could talk to them? He doesn’t know if that would make things better or worse. He feels like he’s barely been here half a day and for them it’s been months. What if he takes another rest and suddenly years have gone by? What if he finds a way back and they’re all long dead?

He can feel the keen edge of panic again, and he’s never been more sympathetic to what it must have been like for Allura and Coran than right now.

“ _My paladin, I did not mean to cause you worry_.”

Shiro tries to get himself under control. Freaking out won’t help anything, and just wastes more time.

“Is there any way at all for me to interact with the physical world?”

The Lion starts to shake its head, then pauses. “ _You may not directly interact, however_ -”

Shiro leans in. “‘However’ what?”

“ _If you focus deeply enough, you may be able to see through my eyes to what is happening there as you have done before_.”

Shiro barely even hesitates. Will that help him or make him feel worse? At this point, does it really matter? What else does he have going on, when it comes right down to it?

“Yeah, okay. I can try that.” Shiro sits back down and leans against the Lion again, closing his eyes. This time, instead of letting himself drift, he focuses as intently as he can, on the presence of the Lion behind him, the feel of it, tries to remember what it felt like during the first days with Black on Arus when they were bonding. He feels something slide into place in his mind, and when he opens his eyes, he’s somewhere else. After a brief second, he realizes it’s the view out of Black’s cockpit. Black is flying, almost desperately so, and Shiro realizes he can feel Keith at the controls,  the same sort of connection as when Shiro was piloting with everyone else, but fainter. There’s no firefight going on, and Shiro is so pleased that Keith followed his wishes, is flying Black just like Shiro knew he could, that it takes him a moment to realize that Keith is aimed at a small Galra cruiser, floating dead through the black of space.

Black slows as Keith gets closer, and Shiro can feel the Black lion twinge around him in confusion.

Keith’s voice echoes through his head, filling the cockpit. “What’s wrong?”

They get closer to the cruiser, and the pilot’s profile resolves. The shock is so great Shiro loses his focus and is shunted back to the astral plane. He’s- confused doesn’t even _begin_ to cover it.

“How- who the hell _was_ that?”

The Lion is quiet, contemplative. “ _It would appear to be you._ ”

The next while is an exercise in frustration. Black agrees that obviously the person the others are interacting with can’t be Shiro, as what’s left of Shiro is _here_ , in the astral plane.

“Is it possible it’s a me from a different reality?”

Black turns to look at Shiro with an air of surprise and Shiro shrugs. “You don’t hang around Slav that long and _not_ hear about different realities.”

Black seems to actually consider it, but then shakes its head. “ _No. There is no energy signature that would be associated with Rift travel. Whoever it is, is from this reality_.”

That darkens Shiro’s mood considerably. There seems to be only one logical conclusion, Occam’s Razor and all that, and it hurts for a number of reasons.

“It’s a trap, isn’t it.” It isn’t even a question really. Black takes it as the statement of fact it is, but nods in agreement.

“ _It would seem so, yes, though I am unsure in what capacity. He has attempted to fly once so far, and I was able to dissuade him. The other black paladin flew in his stead. However, had I not known better, I might not have noticed a difference. Whatever sort of trap it is, it has been skillfully set._ ”

More time passes, and things come to a head. Keith isn’t there, and the team desperately needs Voltron. The only option available is the other Shiro, who is in the cockpit pleading with Black to let him fly. Shiro has gotten over his initial shock enough at this point that he can focus again, and is there watching and listening. He can _feel_ the other, and it’s very disconcerting; it’s like feeling an echo of himself, only just slightly out of synch. He can feel the urgency, the desperation to help, the knowledge that the others could die any moment and he needs to help, and _why won’t Black let him_ ? Shiro thinks the reason it’s so troubling is because it _feels_ like him. He’s felt this before, the climbing, creeping panic that he needs to _do_ something, needs to help, that he won’t get there fast enough to save them, and what if he’s the thing that gets them killed? These are all _his_ thoughts- he’s had them before, lived those fears before- they echo in _his_ voice, in his own words, but it _isn’t him_.

In the end, he and Black come to a consensus. They can both feel the other pilot, and his thoughts to an extent through the bond. Even if he’s a trap, his intentions are true, the same as Shiro’s ever were, and they let him fly.

Shiro withdraws back to the purple expanse, and curls up on the ground. He knows he’s having trouble processing, but he doesn’t know if it’s because the situation is actually that crazy, or because being on a plane where he doesn’t belong is starting to get to him. He hasn’t asked the Lion whether he’s here forever, or how stable his presence is. He’d been prepared to die, expecting that when it happened, there’d be nothing after; or perhaps a quiet sort of rest if he was lucky. He’d never even considered anything like this. If he has to stay here for eternity and watch someone else live his life, he’s not sure he can do that. Isn’t sure he _wants_ to do that.

He’s also not sure he has much of a say in the matter either way.

He checks out for a while, and only comes back to himself when he feels a nudge from Black.

“ _Little one, you must rise_.”

“Why? I can’t do anything about what’s happening out there; why do I have to do anything at all? Maybe I want a break, did you ever think of that?” He knows he sounds petulant, but despite all his intentions to the contrary, Shiro gets up and faces the Lion. “I thought I was going to get to go explore space, collect some ice samples, pilot the farthest any human had ever gone before.” Shiro snorts a derisive laugh. “Well I guess I did, didn’t I? Though I think we’re kind of fucked on the ice samples at this point. But I came back, I tried to warn them. I was a prisoner for a year at the hands of the Galra, the things they made me do- I didn’t even get to stay on Earth for twenty four hours before we found Blue, and came back out here and it’s been non-stop ever since, and I’m fucking _tired_ , so tell me, why the hell do I need to get up? Why shouldn’t I just lay down here and let myself drift off to nothing like I was supposed to?”

“ _It is not in your nature to abandon your friends in such a way. If it were, we would not have bonded. You would not be my paladin._ ”

“I’m _not_ your paladin, though, am I? The guy out there with my face is. Keith is. I’m- I don’t even _know_ what I am right now.”

There’s a feeling of irritation, of disapproval, and the sensation of being swatted in the chest by something massive. It doesn’t quite knock him back, but it’s close. The Lion’s voice doesn’t get louder, but Shiro can feel it reverberate through him, the most physical sensation he’s felt since he arrived here.

“ **_YOU_ ** _are my paladin. Lacking physical substance does not change that. You would not be the man you are, the man I know you to be, if you were to willingly let the others suffer for your stubbornness_.”

That stops Shiro cold.

“What?”

“ _They are engaged in a battle that is not going well. They are attempting to access a deeper level of connection with each other. This could be an opportunity for you to try to make contact should you wish it; you may try to warn them._ ”

There’s only a split second before his doubt melts away. The Lion is right, he’d never be able to stand by and knowingly let something hurt the others, not if he has any say in the matter. A little something like death won’t stop him.

“Show me how.”

It’s hard, far harder than Shiro had expected. It’s like trying to wade upstream against a raging river made of cold molasses. He’s making progress, but he knows it isn’t fast enough. He can hear the others, feel them on the periphery of his awareness, calling him. He can feel Black at his back, encouraging but unable to help directly; Shiro has to do this on his own.

He struggles on, pushes harder than he thinks he ever has, and between one blink and the next he’s there, stepping into a circle of light, and god, he can see the others. They’re around him, waiting, and he’s so overcome he almost loses concentration, blinking out for a moment before re-solidifying. His grip on this place is tenuous at best, and he knows he doesn’t have long before he’s sent back where he started, but this is his team, his _family_ ; he needs to help them as best he can. He can feel enough of them to understand what they’re trying to do. He doesn’t know if it will work for him- they’re trying to tap into and connect life force, and he’s not sure he has any to work with. He concentrates on them, on their voices, and _hopes_ \- hopes what he has is enough, hopes it will work so their plan is successful, hopes he isn’t the reason they fail.

There are shouts of excitement, it worked, thank god it worked, and they start to beam out of their respective circles, back to the physical world. His gut twists; he can’t follow them. He’s going to be left here, left behind to watch, but maybe, maybe he can reach out to one of them if he really tries. Lance is the last one of them, he hasn’t gone yet, and Lance looks over at him, brows drawing down in concern.

“Shiro?”

He draws together the last of his energy, pulls his force of will around himself, and _pushes_.

“Lance! Lance listen to me-”

There’s a feeling like an electric shock, a sharp tug, and he’s being pulled, back, out, away from the circle of light, away from Lance, and no, NO, god damnit he’d been so _close_.

He slams back into the astral plane, the impact a silent percussive blast through his psyche. He lies there stunned, unable to pull himself back together. His thoughts are fleeting, skipping off his mind like stones off a lake, and he has just enough awareness left to wonder if he’s done himself some sort of irreparable damage.

He feels it when Black returns and settles around him protectively, curling around Shiro’s prone form and nosing gently at Shiro’s head. The feel of bulk around him steadies him, reorients him in the here and now, and he can feel his mind start to come back, to coalesce around the touchstone that is the Black lion. He shudders, pulling himself in tighter for a moment before unfolding, sitting up and leaning back against Black’s side.

“Are they-” Shiro still feels like he’s shaking, disconnected. “Did they make it? Did it work?”

“ _The other paladins are alright. They successfully neutralized the threat_.”

He takes another few moments to focus, to center, to make sure he’s all here.

“How long this time?”

“ _In total, or since your attempt at contact_?”

“Both?”

“ _Approximately five phoebs since you attempted contact, and just over a deca-phoeb since I brought you here initially._ ”

Shiro is speechless. He starts to speak, then stops. What is there to say?

“What are the chances of us finding a way for me to go back.” Shiro looks up to see the Lion looking back at him. “There’s no body for me to go back to. You Lions are pretty great, but I don’t think creating human vessels from scratch is really in your wheelhouse, so tell me-” Shiro imagines taking a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Am I stuck here forever? Because if that’s the case, maybe it would be best for you to let me go.”

 _“I will admit the chances are slim. I do not know how it would work, but that is not a reason to stop trying. Your friends-_ ” Black cuts off abruptly, tensing, and Shiro sits up.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“ _The trap has sprung_.” Black’s voice is strained, and its ears swivel, flattening back.

Oh no.

Shiro springs to his feet. “What’s going on? What did he do?”

“ _I fear the witch has control of him. He has taken the Galran prince and fled. Keith has given chase_.”

Shiro sits back down, hard. He’d known, they both had, that the other him was a trap, they just hadn’t been sure to what end. Now that they know, Shiro wants to kick himself for not worrying about it more, not trying to do something.

He closes his eyes and focuses again, watching as Keith flies through the wormhole, alone, and as he takes off after the pod with the other Shiro in it, alone.

When Keith leaves Black’s cockpit to pursue, Shiro howls in frustrated anger. If Keith isn’t in Black or immediately nearby, he has no way to tell what’s happening; all he can do is watch helplessly through Black’s eyes as the two small specs battle on and around the installation. He doesn’t want to watch Keith die, but he also can't tear his eyes away, convinced that the moment he does it will be the end for Keith.

The fight is vicious, hard and fast, and Black is doing its best to keep up, keep an eye on what’s happening, but there’s only so much it can do.

Then Keith manages to take the clone’s arm,  _ Haggar’s _ arm, and everything grinds to a stop, the clone dropping to its knees. Keith is barely holding on, one hand on his Blade, the other on the clone; the platform they’re on starts to collapse, taking Keith and the clone he’s holding onto for dear life with it.

Black is moving on its own as Keith and the clone fall, and barely, _just barely_ , manages to catch them in its mouth.

The brief conversation Shiro has with Keith on the astral plane is difficult, but necessary. The feeling of immense relief Shiro has as Keith wakes up and vanishes, that he’s finally been able to tell someone, finally been able to have meaningful contact, is so immense it’s euphoric. At least someone knows for sure what happened to him

He pushes, once Keith is conscious again, helping Keith unlock Black’s wings, gets him where he needs to be for the final fight against Lotor, and again, he watches with Black from the cockpit, helping where he can, hoping that the strength of his spirit will be enough.

They fight, and he watches as his team pulls together and seemingly wins the day.

His heart breaks for them all when they have to sacrifice the Castle, and he wishes he could have seen it in person one last time.

They land to regroup, and he retreats back to the void, weary from everything. He wants to rest, though he worries what will happen, how much time will pass if he does.

“I don’t suppose you could set an alarm clock or something, so I don’t time skip so much?”

There’s no response, and he realizes Black isn’t there.

Before he can panic, Black blinks into place next to him, reassurance coming off it in waves.

_“Everything is well, little one. But I think your time here may be coming to an end.”_

A chill goes through Shiro, but the Lion huffs, and gently headbutts his shoulder. “ _Nothing is amiss. Keith has just explained to the others what has happened. I believe your Princess may be about to attempt to retrieve you_.”

Shiro freezes in shock. “She’s- she’s what? How?”

Warm fondness rushes over Shiro as he starts to feel an odd pull, though he can’t tell from where.

“ _Much has happened since you were gone. They will explain and catch you up. I am glad we had this time together, my paladin_.” The Lion gives a less gentle headbutt this time, and Shiro feels himself lift up off the ground, and get pulled along. It’s much less violent than when he’d gotten yanked back to the astral plane, but it’s still not a smooth ride. He doesn’t realize he’s closed his eyes until he opens them, and he’s somewhere new. If he tries, he can feel Black at the edges of his mind, though barely. There’s something else too, and though he doesn’t know how, he knows with unfailing certainty that it’s Allura. She’s doing something, he can feel the insistent tugging sensation. For the moment, though, he’s here. It’s a white expanse, as far as he can see, nothing in any direction- the ground, the air, the sky, all indiscernible from one another. The only break in the view is the figure curled up on its knees on the ground shaking, clad in familiar black and white armor. The person’s left arm is up over its head, fingers buried and clenched in its hair, the right arm ending abruptly just below the shoulder.

Shiro moves forward and kneels down, placing a careful hand on the other’s intact shoulder. The figure shudders hard, looks up, and Shiro’d thought he was prepared, but it’s still a shock to see his own wide-eyed tear-streaked face staring back at him, and to hear his own voice, choked with tears, coming from someone else.

“I’m sorry, I’m _so_ sorry, I didn’t know, I thought, I thought I was-”

‘ _-I thought I was_ **you**.’, Shiro hears, though it’s left unsaid.

“I couldn’t stop her, I tried, but, I couldn’t- I’d _never-_ ” the other Shiro’s voice is tinged with visceral horror, and Shiro understands, he _completely_ understands, remembers back to the first time he killed in the Arena, and he _gets_ it. He’s always had the benefit of knowing who he was, a solid core of self to depend on; this poor clone, he’d been convinced he was Shiro, and had not only just learned his whole life- his whole _existence_ \- was a lie, but that he’d tried to kill the only family he’d ever known. That was a lot for anyone to deal with.

“I know, I _know_ you wouldn’t. I’m sure they’ll understand, too.”

There’s a wet snort of laughter, and the other him shakes his head, curling in tighter on himself.

“It’s- I don’t think it will be a problem. I wasn’t meant to last past the final phase of-” the words get stuck in his throat. He pauses, looks like he’s struggling, and manages, more quietly, “I wasn’t meant to last.”

Shiro aches for him. “Is there anything I can do? To help you?”

The other Shiro’s face crumples, more tears falling. He looks like he’s trying to compose himself, but fails. He looks up at Shiro, and uncurls enough that he can reach up and grasp at Shiro’s hand where it’s still holding onto his shoulder. “Take care of them for me? Let them know I’m so, _so_ sorry, I-” Under Shiro’s hand, the other him flickers, then solidifies again, and he doesn’t look well, like a tv channel with a bad signal. “Tell them this was quick, that I didn’t suffer. I know they’ll worry even if they’re angry.” There’s another flicker, and his face goes more grim. “I think I’m close to the end, but that’s ok.” He doesn’t sound scared, more resigned than anything else, and Shiro recognizes the tone from when _he’d_ first died; it’s how he’d felt when he thought it was the end- acceptance, laced with regret. Shiro leans forward and pulls the other him into his arms, hugging him tight. The man in his arms stiffens, momentarily surprised, then relaxes into it, still shaking.

“I hope I was even half the Shiro you are.”

Shiro smiles back, watery, as he can feel the form under his hands flickering more steadily now. “I could feel you through Black. You were just as much Shiro as I am.”

The other smiles, face going calm, more peaceful, and he flickers out one last time, leaving Shiro alone in the white expanse.

He isn’t sure how much time has passed, if any, when he hears, “ _Shiro_?”

He turns, and there she is, Allura, though she’s glowing like a supernova, brilliant blue, and even here she’s almost too bright to look at.

“Allura?”

She reaches out to him, and the moment they touch, everything brightens further, going a blinding white.

Shiro jolts up, and oh god, he hurts, everything hurts, and he feels so heavy, like he’s made of lead, and it registers slowly that he’s not alone, and oh- oh he’s-

He lists sideways, unbalanced, and he hears the roar of the lions around him, and the cheering of the others.

He looks up to see he’s fallen against Keith’s side, and in wonder says, “You found me.”

Keith is smiling at him, even if it’s a bit wobbly around the edges.

“We’re glad you’re back, Shiro.”

Allura is also right there, smiling gently at him, and his eyes are already sliding shut as he hears her say, “Rest.”.

There’s a lot to be done, he knows, and he’ll catch up later, but for now, he follows Allura’s request and slides into sleep, the gentle rumble of the Black Lion guiding him down.

**Author's Note:**

> “ _At times I almost dream_  
>  I, too, have spent a life the sages’ way,  
> And tread once more familiar paths. Perchance  
> I perished in an arrogant self-reliance  
> Ages ago; and in that act, a prayer  
> For one more chance went up so earnest, so-  
> Instinct with better light let in by death,  
> That life was blotted out not so completely  
> But scattered wrecks enough of it remain,  
> Dim memories, as now, when once more seems  
> The goal in sight again…”  
> Robert Browning, _Paracelsus_
> 
> Feel free to come say hi and/or flail with me on my writing page on tumblr, [Analisegrey](http://analisegrey.tumblr.com/)!


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